


Missing Mile

by cher



Category: Poppy Z Brite - Lost Souls
Genre: First Time, M/M, Post-Canon, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007, recipient:Merry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-21
Updated: 2010-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-13 22:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cher/pseuds/cher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for: Merry in the Yuletide 2007 Challenge: A Yuletide Treat</p>
    </blockquote>





	Missing Mile

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merry/gifts).



> Written for: Merry in the Yuletide 2007 Challenge: A Yuletide Treat

After New Orleans, Ghost had nightmares. If Steve heard him, he'd come and slip into Ghost's bed with him, and Ghost would go back to sleep with his nose in Steve's hair, breathing his smell. Ghost thought Steve had nightmares too; Ann, bloody on the bed, Arkady, Zillah. Steve would tell him about them, one day, but for now they curled together in the hours past midnight and their nightmares shied away from their shared dreams. Ghost liked to think that Steve's nightmares wouldn't come near Ghost, and that Steve frightened away Ghost's. He smiled into Steve's hair, wrapping him around with his magic, sleeping.

Some days Steve woke up and jumped straight out of bed, smelling like fear and guilt, and Ghost thought that meant he'd dreamed something different. Some days he would lie next to Ghost and talk to him until he had to leave for the Whirling Disc. Some days he woke up with his dick hard, and it was those days Ghost thought were most difficult, because he loved Steve and Steve loved him, maybe more than anyone else was ever going to love either of them, but this Steve couldn't do.

Then one night in May, close enough to Beltane that Ghost thought at first that the spirits had a few tricks to play on him that night, Steve came crawling into bed before Ghost was even asleep. Steve hadn't been sleeping either, but he had been drinking, and he smelled his familiar smell of beer, maybe desperation and excitement too.

Steve hugged him tight, palms burning hot against Ghost's bare back, and Ghost remembered that the morning before, he'd looked at the wind and known something was coming. This wasn't what he'd imagined it might be, but he hugged Steve back and waited to see what came next.

Steve breathed in deeply, with his nose pressed to Ghost's neck, and his hands stroked through Ghost's hair and over his back, rhythmic like the way he played his guitar when he was really in a groove. "Ghost," he said, and his voice cracked. Ghost couldn't bear his uncertainty, so he cupped Steve's head, murmured, "Yes," to him, and kissed Steve's rough lips.

Steve made a broken sound and pulled Ghost against him, kissing Ghost's lips, his face, his eyelids. Ghost wanted to lie back and let Steve discover himself, discover Ghost, but he was afraid that Steve's courage would hold him only so far. Ghost sent silent thanks to the Beltane spirits, promised them cakes and honey later on, and pushed Steve gently back so that he could kiss his throat, his stubble-rough cheek, his beer-sour mouth.

Slowly, so that Steve wouldn't startle, Ghost slipped his hands under Steve's shirt, tugged gently until he sat up and pulled the holey - _holy, Steve's_ \- tshirt over his head. Ghost looked up at him, saw that Steve didn't flinch away from Ghost's eyes, that his stare was full of midnights and stage lights, entranced with Ghost the way he got when he was lost in their music. This was their music, here in Ghost's bed, their bed.

Ghost lay back down and Steve lay over him, pressed their bare chests together as if they might merge into one spirit, SteveandGhost, and for a moment Ghost wanted that so much he thought he might burst. Then he was glad he was just Ghost, so that he could be here, touching Steve, lovely, wild Steve, their mouths licking and biting at one another, so sweetly. Steve growled a little and bit Ghost's throat, licked at his chest, grabbed his hips tight through his thin pants. Ghost could feel Steve hard against him, his dick straining to be touched, held, loved. He'd spent so long trying not to think of how hard Steve made _his_ dick that it was almost too much now, too intense to be allowed to press back against him, Steve's weight pressing him down into his mattress.

Ghost wanted to remember everything about how it felt to be here with Steve, Steve's lips and teeth and fingers touching him, in case this was once in a lifetime magic. He kissed Steve's ears, stroked his back, pushed his hips up and ground himself against Steve's strength.

"Ghost," Steve said again, strained, desperate. "Ghost."

"Yes," Ghost said back. "Yes, Steve." He arched his back and pushed back against Steve, gave himself enough room to push his pants down over his hips, pushed at Steve's jeans too. Steve made a noise like a hurt animal and scrambled backwards, stood up long enough to strip off his jeans and underwear, and Ghost wriggled out of his own pants, feeling like a merman emerging from his skin.

Steve stood and looked at Ghost, and Ghost felt his merman body twisting and arching where Steve's eyes touched it. The magic had them both tight, the music silent in the air, and Steve moved with it, lay down against Ghost and made them both groan with the heat between them. Steve rolled over on top of him again, pushing his dick hard against Ghost, perfect like nothing Ghost had ever felt before. Ghost held on to Steve's shoulders, listened to their music with the smell of Steve all around him. Steve kissed him hard, moved against him, held him. Ghost got a hand down between them, touched Steve's dick, got a hand around him and stroked. Steve gasped in his ear and put his hand around Ghost's dick, too. It felt better than anything, anything at all.

They moved together in the dark, Ghost and Steve together, GhostandSteve almost, their pleasure flavouring the air around them, turning the music golden. Their mouths pressed together, breath coming harshly as they moved faster against one another. Steve found the music's crescendo first, cried out, gasped Ghost's name and came hotly on Ghost's belly. Ghost clutched him tightly, tasted Steve's name on his lips and let the pleasure carry him away, their seeds mixing together between  
them.

"Ghost," Steve panted against Ghost's throat, and it was the sweetest music Ghost had ever heard.

"Steve," he said, holding him close. "Steve."


End file.
